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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722816">I Don't Remember This</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse'>Ghostinthehouse</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demon and Angel Professors [150]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Professors, Disabled Crowley (Good Omens), M/M, Nonbinary Beelzebub (Good Omens), Other, Trans Female Character, Ze/Zir Pronouns for Beelzebub (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 11:26:49</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>666</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28722816</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ghostinthehouse/pseuds/Ghostinthehouse</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Izzie bent her head and took her notes in silence, biting back her delighted smile at finally being here.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Demon and Angel Professors [150]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1412962</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>22</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>608</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>I Don't Remember This</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p class="western">"You will call me Professor Fly," the diminutive, androgynous, Politics professor informed the class, zir force of personality filling the room and leaving no room for questions, "and use ze/zir pronounz. Now, listen up. Politics is not solely about governing countries. It is the art of navigating other people'z desirez to achieve your preferred result..." Ze continued without slowing, laying out the course, the topics studied and the expectations ze had for them all, zir voice like a droning buzz that held only small amounts of inflection.</p>
<p class="western">Izzie bent her head and took her notes in silence, biting back her delighted smile at finally being here. This was going to be hard work, of course. Professor Fly was obviously one of those teachers were you had the choice of keeping up or giving up. There would be no help forthcoming. But that was ok. She'd faced tougher challenges already.</p>
<p class="western">***</p>
<p class="western">"B is alive and well and taking my class," Aziraphale said, the moment both he and Crowley were in the Bentley.</p>
<p class="western">Crowley glanced sideways at him, lips parting on a loosed breath, and a subtle tension went out of him. "Glad to hear it. Izzie's here too. She's taking Politics."</p>
<p class="western">"With Beelzebub?"</p>
<p class="western">"Yep." A muscle tightened in Crowley's jaw and he looked away, up toward the main campus. The Bentley roared to life under his hand and they took off for home. Once they were on the road, Crowley held out his hand, palm up. "Here's hoping ze doesn't turn Izzie against us."</p>
<p class="western">Aziraphale released one hand from gripping the strap and gripped Crowley's hand instead, running his thumb up and down Crowley's jutting knuckles. Neither of them let go for the rest of the drive.</p>
<p class="western">Once home, they rotated around each other like well-oiled cogs as they shed and hung up coats and scarves. Then Crowley dropped onto the old sofa and Aziraphale puttered off into the kitchen to make cocoa, eventually returning with angel and devil mugs cradled in his pudgy hands.</p>
<p class="western">Crowley sat up a bit, opened his eyes, and took the devil mug. He inhaled the comforting scent of chocolate with added orange and cinnamon, curled back his lips and chomped viciously down on a floating marshmallow.</p>
<p class="western">Aziraphale nudged his own marshmallows aside far enough to take a sip, and hummed in pleasure at the treacly tang of very dark sugar underlying the chocolate in his mug. "Nothing we can do about it now," he said, settling back against the other end of the sofa.</p>
<p class="western">"No," Crowley agreed. "They're flying free now. They'll just have to take their chances with the rumour mill - like we do."</p>
<p class="western">***</p>
<p class="western">The rumour mill hummed with input from the new students as they shared their experiences.</p>
<p class="western">Dr Fell was very happily married.</p>
<p class="western">So was Dr Device.</p>
<p class="western">Dr Crowley was seeing someone, discreetly. Probably. No one was quite sure if it was an affair or not, but they had heard <em>somebody</em> laugh with him, and wasn't that something astonishing, given the grim viciousness of the man himself? Who on earth could it be? Another professor? An off-campus other half? Somebody else?</p>
<p class="western">Izzie and B caught the rumours in a milling crowd, meeting each other on the way to the breakroom. They glanced at each other, B's gaze enquiring, Izzie's rueful.</p>
<p class="western">Izzie nodded, confirming only to B that she was the one they were all trying to identify. "I don't remember this many rumours when I was a kid," she muttered. "But maybe I was just too little to notice." She held out a hand.</p>
<p class="western">B gripped it tight, like an anchor. "You probably were," she said, and her voice sounded much lighter than her eyes looked. "Come on, I want coffee before anything else happens."</p>
<p class="western">"Oh, me too," Izzie sighed, and let her best friend tow her off to the drinks machines. Coffee sounded a lot better than listening to her friendly overture to an old mentor be taken for something so much more than it actually was.</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western"> </p>
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